Make me silent
by KleineVogel
Summary: A work based from Zalia Chimera's work Anarchy of Silence. Prussia's pov of the events that transpire.   First attempt at writing first person. Rated for bondage.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, the characters are not mine, the idea is on loan from Zalia Chimera who wrote an amazing piece.

Warnings: first attempt at first person view, bondage, unstable mentality

Summary: Based from "Anarchy of Silence" by Zalia Chimera. Prussia's view.

A huge thanks to Zalia Chimera for her story, mostly this is dedicated to her for allowing me to put up this work.

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><p>There are times when everything seems possible, other times when you feel like you can't do a thing. Then there is that moment when both occur. Your skin feels too tight, yet you feel like you're lost inside your own body. Emotions run rampant, there's nothing you cannot do, nothing you shouldn't do. These times there is no direction, purpose, meaning, nothing. I hate these times, still they are a close companion.<p>

It used to be when this anger, angst, mood, whatever you wish to call it hit me, or rather was set off I'd lash out. As a nation I'd go to war, prove to the world I had a purpose, that I was stronger. It wouldn't really matter what happened to my body, my land. I don't know if I was trying to find a direction, or something to calm me. After a certain point I supposed I calmed down, or just injured myself enough though the conquests that I had to be dragged back.

People always judged though, looked at me with pity or fear.

That look always started it again.

I don't know how this arrangement with Austria began. I remember, kinda, when and where, but so much is lost to me. I just remember an intense relief, someone who didn't look at me with pity, who didn't fear me. Despite the wars against him, the names I called him, doing all but cursing his existence he offered a hand to help me. And not the kind that others had extended with, "you need help" or "This feeling isn't right."

I suppose I should start back at the first time, explain what I do remember. It was years ago, back before Germany was unified, before the empire Austria and I were both a part of fell. I had been a horribly young nation at the time, but my outlet had been gone. The wars I had fought in again and again were ending, winding down. And I was forced into courts making my rage against others all the worse. He had found me, pacing, the probably once nice room in tatters. The destruction wasn't enough for me though, I itched for more.

During that time I was doing everything I could to prove I was better than him, better than his empire. Yet a single word had me pausing. The tone, the delicious sound of an order. _Of a direction. _

He seemed to understand perfectly with out me trying to explain. We argued, like always, light banter small insults. My hands had been shaking, I just wanted to self destruct. Again, a command, a taste of _order_, I was kneeling. I remember him telling me that if he helped me I only had to do one thing in return. I feared for a second, ready to lash at him that I wasn't going to give him anything. But he continued before I had a chance, if he helped me now, gave me back order, direction, purpose I would have to give him respect.

How Austria knew what to do still eludes me. That he had the will to is even farther beyond my grasp.

Yet, somehow my hands ended up bound behind my back, the tension coiled up inside me gently eased away. The tattered curtain cord was used to bind my hands back to my ankles so I could not stand. And it felt right, forced to stay still, to do nothing but think. It was like a great burden had been lifted off me, I didn't have to try to stop myself, something physically held me.

Physically Austria restrained me, mentally he showed me the path again. Drug me out of the field I had been mindlessly hacking away at.

How long I stayed like that I don't know, it had been a gentle touch by the other that brought me back to the world. Not that I had been asleep. That's the other thing, he is always gentle during these times. His tone is direct, commanding, but I had no reason to fear his touch, each move reassuring, gentle.

Afterward everything was surreal. Like the world was born anew. I remember curling up against his leg as he sat to read, uncaring still that the room was in shambles. He petted my hair absentmindedly, easing me back. We talked again when I felt like it, his tone softening back to normal. Austria would ask what set me off, or what happened, never pushing for an answer.

I left afterward, returned home, let life return to normal. When I felt myself about to snap I'd go back, I'd taunt, tease, and push him. Always he somehow knew what I needed.

Which is why today I again return to him. My arms trembling, my muscles sore, my heart gripped in a painful vise. It has been years since I felt like this. Not since I reunited with my brother, was relieved of having to worry about a government.

~oOo~

The door is the first thing to feel my current wrath. An extra hit to it given just to make sure the wood cracks. There is no tone of music meaning Austria is not at his piano, therefore I head straight for the kitchen. My usual grin plastered on my face, my barriers all in place. After all, I don't want those looks of pity, I despise their pity.

Austria appears to have a foul stench under his nose as always. My grin grows, but I feel my will slipping more. I make a comment, he replies, and the banter goes on as usual. Almost like a dance, time for me to figure out if he's still willing to help or if he'll just let me slip off into madness. I tear off a hunk of raw bread dough sneering about his lifestyle.

His retort cuts me deeper than it should. But my disillusion is harder to bear at times like this.

I tear off another piece of dough before storming off. The sigh doesn't escape my ears as I stuff the bite into my mouth. Immediately I head to the music room, I need _purpose_.

The flute I pick up is broken. No matter what I do a tone will not come out. Not even a note will escape the stupid thing. I pull it apart trying to figure out what is wrong with the damn thing when Austria enters. He starts the banter this time, taunting my skill. I contemplate bashing the useless thing into his head. He tells me I'm lacking and I jam the useless thing back together determined to prove him wrong.

I feel him leave, but don't care anymore.

The instrument still fails to work and my anger mounts. I feel my mind slip more and I snarl at the flute. I rip it apart again throwing the pieces as hard as I can into the sofa located in the room. Again I curse the thing and go seek out Austria again, at least I can still piss him off.

I take slight pride in the sound the doors make as I slam them closed, force them open. A sign of the strength I still posses. The thought creeps into my head that I could do this to people, whole cites. Of course the reminder that I am no longer a nation, no longer capable of doing such screeches it to a halt. The mood mounts in destructive nature.

He speaks, I don't care. Slightly, I curl upon myself, the thought of what I no longer am depressing me, my inability to do anything angering me, my energy driving me on to hurt something. The need prove myself, find the path, the direction making my lungs and heart hurt more.

That's when I notice he's ignoring me, I am not to be ignored. My fingers tap just off from his typing. He snaps at me, I halfway glare and pause. As he resumes I do as well getting pleasure out of driving him to the edge where I've sat perched.

"You are being intolerable."

My anger, the need to do something purrs with pleasure at his growl. I smirk, "So do something about it," I taunt, daring him to try me. He waves me off and I snort. The feeling is still there, wanting me to break something, run myself to the breaking point. Determined to make it the other male I make my noises louder.

His retort isn't where I want it to be. But he sounds more game for what I need. And part of me breaks knowing that he is still willing to help.

Still, Austria isn't there, he doesn't know this pain yet, his last nerve still exists for me to squash. He goes back to basically ignoring me and I stand. I want to return to normal, I want to stop hurting, stop trying to hold myself back. I don't notice Austria's eyes on me.

My feet start moving, six steps and I'm on the other side of the study. I turn and head back, six steps. My hands move to my hair, pulling wanting this energy this feeling to go away, hoping that I could just pull it out of me. Still the urge to destroy something mounts ignoring what I want. This is all Germany's fault. His actions, his words. I mutter it all, growling insults in any language I can think of. Still, it's not enough.

Instead the feeling mounts more. The anger coiling tighter within me. I feel hair rip away under my hands, flesh going with it.

"Stop!"

That tone- harsh, commanding, _order_ breaks through my tirade. I stop, my body freezing somewhere inside me screaming for help. Desperate, I look at him, mentally I'm begging him to make it stop, make me stop. He pulls out an old set of leather gloves, my chest jumps at the sight. They are not old, just broken in, soft from years of use. I feel my teeth sink into the tip of my tongue, unable to take my eyes away from them as he fastens them about hsi wrists. The relief that he is going to take care of this helps me hold on that much longer.

"Sit down."

I know those words and that tone well, slowly my knees hit the carpet. A combination of holding myself in check still, and gratitude for a direction to follow cause me to tremble. Staring straight ahead I don't see his desk or Austria anymore as I let him become the master. It feels amazing to just give control over like this.

It isn't enough though. My hand twitches, the urge to move grows fighting my instinct to follow order. I fidget from leg to leg wanting to listen but losing control on it. Another order helps giving me something new to focus on, stay. Austria gives another order, handing me his things, hold.

His hand lingers and I look at him just for a second. I try to let him know I am glad he's doing this for me.

Upon arrival to his room a simple movement orders me to sit, I watch as he gets out the needed items. Despite my actions in his study, the desperation I tried to show him, Austria still asks, "Do I need to restrain you?" I feel the anger bubble up with a vengeance.

"Just get on with it," I snarl and before I realize what I said his gloved hand is on my jaw. His grip harsh but not enough to bruise, and he forces me to look at him as I am reminded of the one thing I must do. Respect him. I rub my jaw as he lets go, ashamed. I am making him do this, yet I cannot keep up my end...

The question repeats and this time I simply reply with a yes. I cannot meet his gaze again and I stare at the floor as he gets what will be needed.

My eyes travel back to him as he sets up the cage in the far corner of the room. It's just big enough for me to kneel inside, heavy enough for me not to break. Relief grows within me, just a few more minutes; a few more minutes of trying to restrain myself. Austria will never understand how thankful I am that he does this.

I kneel next to the cage once he motions me to join him, it is cool against my skin. Right now it is a pure blessing to see it. Austria, again, gives me the option not to go through with this; but I want this. No, I need this, before I destroy myself and everything I have.

"Very well"

My hands are bound, locked into fists. I'm unable to repress a shiver that runs down my spine as Austria tightens the buckles. A last minute panic at being locked away but his hand is soon in my hair, a small reminder that it is him. That I will be okay. I stare at the mitts, they are heavy and thick, and I feel suddenly a bit safer.

I don't want to look up at him, but a delicate finger under my chin forces me to look up. For a second I lock eyes with Austria, and I can't help but wonder if this is harder on him than me.

A leather hood appears from behind Austria, it's heavy and will allow for no sight or sound. As soon as I realize I'm staring I shut my eyes, welcoming the cut off. The inside is soft against my face, and I feel him lock it into place about my throat. Worn leather is soon pressed into my mouth, his glove, and I almost smile at the thought of him still worrying about me. To reassure him I press my tongue against the finger, as much of a thank you as he will ever get from me.

The hand leaves, and I feel both on my shoulders. I remain kneeling there, unseeing as Austria works the tension from my body. My mind starts to wonder what he thinks of all this, what I must look like but quickly lets go. I really don't care, as long as he continues to be my refuge.

A nudge.

The feel of bars under my knees.

A gentle squeeze on my shoulder.

Then nothing. I shift trying to comfortable, trying to find the one way I can escape the feelings that are plaguing me. Mentally this feeling goes over almost panicked like how I cannot move, speak, hurt, annoy, anything.

I cannot do anything except

wait.

listen.

obey.

Finally, in my mind I find the 'path' as I've deemed it. The thing we all follow in life, choosing to fork left or right upon it. Always going forward never back. I lose mine so many times, so much during my first introduction to nationhood. Before I had Austria to assist me, back then this... urge would just take over. All destruction, blood, my body ready to fall apart.

Then again at Germany's unification as I felt everything changing, my power shifting to him. It was terrible then, I ran to Austria so many times that he surely grew tired of me. Ever since my release from behind the wall, my final removal from nation status. Retirement, as I often put it, didn't lend it's self to torture my soul so much, didn't drive me to the brink of war or running myself into the ground.

Like this I am able to view my choices, the decisions I made from afar. Look at what upset me, sometimes arrive at a conclusion at where to go from here. Usually though, I let my mind drift over it all, not focusing on anything. I don't have to make a choice, hold myself back, I am free... at Austria's expense. But I never think about it when I'm like this, that I force him to carry all that responsibility for me. If only for a few hours... I never know.

The feeling often leaves me then, as if it's given up in trying to control me. It knows it cannot win here, and I'm never sad to see it go. I wish the itch would stay permanently away, but it is a part of me. A darker side of myself that I will never be fully rid of.

A gentle tap.

My mind comes closer back to now and I realize Austria is still there. The hood is removed and I smile fainly up at him. It is like the world is suddenly brand new again, not so terrible as it once was. His hands are gentle on my neck and I just lie there comfortable under his touch.

"You've interrupted me," his words are as gentle as his hands, "I need to finish my work."

I don't know how long I continued to lay there, just watching him work. My mind was still off somewhere else it seemed as no actual thoughts seemed to enter my head.

"Come"

Crawling, I go to him. I sit back on my knees as he removes the binding from my hands and gently works the blood flow back through them. I merely sit there watching his hands, feeling completely at ease.

It is not until later that he asks as usual what happened, what caused this problem. Despite wanting to internalize what ever ran me to the point of desperation I always spill to him what happened. A gentle hand in my hair every now and then to let me know he is there, offering support of any kind for me to just take. The mood threatens to return for a second as I admit to Ludwig's words, the object of so many nightmares, and my wounded self to hear such.

It is Austria's hand in my hair, his warmth, his body that I cling to that keep it away and allow me to stay calm.

Eventually, he says he is going to bed, basically inviting me to stay the night. Of course he wouldn't be Austria if he just came right out and told me that I could stay there. The banter, the teasing, normality settles over us. And only when he climbs into bed in his ridiculous sleeping gown that I hold out my wrists. Just for the night, I want him to hold my sanity, give me the chance to escape that duty as well.

He obliges. I feel myself relax a degree. Austria just rolls back over, his snores filling the room quickly.

He will owe me pancakes for suffering though that noise.

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><p>Well, I hope this wasn't horrible.<br>Again, I thank Zalia Chimera, go check out her original work of this event- "Anarchy of Silence" for better details and a much more amazing piece.

It'd be nice if people left reviews!


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